


2,870 Miles

by SadaVeniren



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Football | Soccer Player Louis Tomlinson, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadaVeniren/pseuds/SadaVeniren
Summary: Harry hated the BT Sports commentators, but considering he couldn’t fly to Baku while eight months pregnant this was all he had if he wanted to watch his husband in the Europa League final.





	2,870 Miles

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "foot". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/foot), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1 and 2), [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works). You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/185709101043/wordplay-2019-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt).

Harry hated the BT Sports commentators, but considering he couldn’t fly to Baku, Azerbaijan while eight months pregnant this was all he had if he wanted to watch his husband in the Europa League final.

“Can we just mute the fucking telly?” Harry asked to no one in particular. Only his sister had stayed behind in London which he tried not to be too sour about. His mum deserved a chance to go visit another counter and hang out with her best friend. But this meant that the viewing party at his own home was small – just Harry, Gemma, and Gemma’s boyfriend Michael. The small viewing party may have also been because they were the only people he could currently tolerate. He hadn’t expected his hormones to be this bad, or make him this grouchy, but they had.

He blamed his swollen feet – his swollen everything really. He felt like his entire body was just swelling and cramping. Braxton Hicks contractions were no joke and Harry was not looking forward to the real thing.

If Louis had been here _he_ would have rubbed Harry’s feet, using some techniques he’d picked up from the team masseuse to help relieve the pain and swelling of his feet. But Louis hadn’t been home for a week, prepping in Azerbaijan for this final. And as much as Gemma loved him the first time he’d asked her to rub his feet she’d given his feet one look and snorted before telling him very bluntly “no”.

Harry had hated her for at least three minutes after that, but then she’d at least suggested he take a bath and the soak had helped.

“Can you at least help me paint my toes Gem?” He asked, trying to be as graceful as possible when it came to lifting his leg up to the couch. He had a blue that matched Louis’ eyes and also the Chelsea colors and he wanted to be supportive, even though the first half so far had been pretty bland. Scoreless, with Arsenal pressing a bit more than Chelsea, and it was making Harry antsy. He hoped this didn’t end up like the FA cup two seasons ago. That had been absolutely wretched.

“I’m not touching your feet,” she said, as she looked over at how he was hunched over as awkwardly as he could be to try and reach his toes. Luckily he had freakishly long arms so even though he couldn’t really see his toes he could still wave the brush around and hope for the best.

“Harry…” Gemma said it slowly.

He winced as another Braxton Hicks contraction ran through him and he wondered if he’d not been drinking enough water. That had helped alleviate them in the last couple weeks. But then he felt something warm and wet trickling down his leg, getting on the couch. Had he just-

He let go of his foot and let it fall back to the floor. It was wet underneath him.

“Gems I think I just pissed.”

“Harry I think your water just broke.”

They stared at each other with wide eyes.

Petr Cech saved a shot from Louis on the television. Neither Gemma nor Michael had lowered the volume.

“Tommo gets the ball back and he plays it up to Giroud,” the commentator said. “Looking very bright there, Tommo is, anchoring Chelsea’s midfield.”

Louis was playing in the Europa League final in Azerbaijan, hours away by flight, and Harry’s water had just broken.

***

Louis couldn’t stop smiling as he was pulled into an interview. He could barely grasp what he was saying. Sure the Europa League trophy wasn’t something he – or Chelsea – truly wanted to strive for, but it was silverware in the cabinet and Louis himself had played an extraordinary game, so he was absolutely thrilled.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked, his mind skipping over the interviewer saying something about his personal life.

“Your family,” they said. “It’s going to get bigger.”

Louis nodded, glancing at the camera and smiling. Was this the channel that Harry was watching? He couldn’t tell, but he knew Harry would see the interview eventually. “It is yeah. The baby is due in a couple weeks and we’re very excited.”

Whatever the interviewer was about to follow up with was lost by Lottie pushing her way to him. Louis frowned. “Lottie, you aren’t supposed to be here?”

She threw her arms around him, shoving her mouth against his ear. “Harry’s water broke before halftime. Gemma took him to the hospital. Mum already worked with the team and booked you a flight that it leaves in an hour.” Louis blinked. He tried to pull himself back to look at her, but she kept her arms squeezed tight around his shoulders. “You need to go _now_.”

Louis nodded. He needed to go now. “I need to go now,” he repeated, not sure what else he could really say, as Lottie let him go. He looked at the interviewer for just a moment before he spun and took off in a sprint towards the locker rooms. He heard people calling his name but he had a plane to catch.

***

Harry smiled dreamily at his son. Labor had gone quickly all things considered. It had only lasted about seven hours and now his son was clean and sleeping against his chest after he’d had his first meal. The nurses had said he was practically a natural at breastfeeding which had made Harry beam even though he was exhausted.

It must have been four or five in the morning and he didn’t know much of everything. Gemma had told him that Chelsea had demolished Arsenal during the second half but Harry had been in the middle of contractions - real ones which are what he’d apparently been feeling all day not Braxton Hicks contractions - and what was probably a surge of hormones because he had snapped at her that he didn’t care and he didn’t want to hear anything about Louis before he promptly burst into tears because Louis was going to miss the birth of their son.

They’d had a plan! It had been set up since Louis had swept him off his feet and took him to the Maldives for a weekend before this season had started. He wasn’t supposed to give birth until after the season was over. Louis was going to be there for him during it, but instead he was alone in London except for Gemma and Michael. Even his own mum hadn’t been here because she’d gone to fucking Baku.

The door to his room opened and Harry rolled his head, hit by another wave of exhaustion. But he was worried what would happen if he fell asleep with the baby on his chest.

Louis was standing there, dressed in a pair of joggers and a white vest, eyes wild and wide. They settled on Harry and their son and Harry could see the emotion dripping off of him as he collapsed into the room, forcing himself to the bed.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t there.” He reached for Harry or maybe their son, Harry wasn’t entirely sure.

Harry felt relief rush over him, and he smiled. “You’re here. Do you want to hold him? I haven’t told anyone what we’re gonna name yet.”

Louis’ hands were shaking as they brushed through Harry’s hair, his eyes on their son. “Mum got Chelsea to pull strings. Our team flight wasn’t until the morning and any commercial flight back to London has a connection so they found someone flying private back to London and paid I don’t even know what money to let me sit with these stuffy oil businessmen who were all Liverpool fans.” His fingers trailed down and hovered over their son’s’ face. Harry could tell how much he wanted to touch him.

“You can take him. He already fed.”

Louis was so gentle as he lifted their son off his chest and cuddled him against him instead. Their son stirred just a bit and his mouth opened just a bit as he seemed to look around for something - probably more food. His little hand waved in the air, smacking against Louis’ chest.

Louis chuckled and touched his little fist. “Hello, my little one. You’re not gonna find any food from me. We’d have to give you back to your mum.” Harry watched the way their son’s face curled up as he seemed to realize Louis was someone new and Louis shushed him, rocking his arms just a bit. “You said you didn’t tell anyone his name yet?”

Harry shook his head. He was exhausted. “Wanted to be sure we’d both met him, to make sure it fit.”

Louis couldn’t keep his eyes off of their son. “I definitely think he’s an Elliot, don’t you?”

Harry closed his eyes, feeling more at peace now that Louis was here. “I think so too.”

Lips pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll look after him. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it feel free to leave kudos, a comment, or [reblog the tumblr post](https://sadaveniren.tumblr.com/post/185841992606/2870-miles-by-sadaveniren-15k-harry-hated-the)


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